


verbal communication

by tonyang (kurusui)



Category: PRISTIN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, radio club au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 01:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurusui/pseuds/tonyang
Summary: “Ah.” It was a realization like that - sudden, quiet, but peaceful -





	verbal communication

Kyungwon brings Siyeon to the radio club office for the first time on a breezy, warm day. It’s a few weeks into the school year when Kyungwon is absentmindedly referencing the school station and Siyeon, aimless and willing to try anything, asks what she’s talking about.

“Oh I’ll show you,” Kyungwon says. “If I can find time in between my classes.”

(It’s kind of funny because that’s reportedly the last time Kyungwon ends up visiting that semester. “I just don’t have _time_ ,” she whines in her own defense, later, and all the underclassmen at their lunch table throw miscellaneous food wrappers at her.)

Kyungwon unlocks the door and Bae Sungyeon sits at the desk. Siyeon screams. “I know you from class!”

Sungyeon leaps out of her chair and it makes a recoil noise against the concrete floor. “I know you too!!!” Kyungwon laughs at them.

“I didn’t know you had friends here,” Kyungwon teases, flicking Siyeon in the back of the head.

Siyeon followed Kyungwon and Eunwoo to this university and kind of has a reputation for starting problems. Siyeon loves them very much, but that’s because they know her and she knows them.

“Sungyeon is great. And I have lots of friends,” Siyeon says, balking.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I believe you,” Kyungwon amends.

They have a stare off. It starts with Kyungwon’s furrowed eyebrows and ends with Siyeon’s cold gaze, unending, something Kyungwon doesn’t have the patience to deal with.

“Well, radio is fun!” Sungyeon says, turning in her swivel chair back to the operating area. “Sit down, let me clear away some of these papers. Wow, there are so many of these.” Sungyeon sweeps it all to the left, next to where Siyeon is standing.

“What is this?” In her hands is a creased sheet of looseleaf, a sketch in pencil, script in hurried handwriting-

Kyungwon shakes her head. “Was Kyla doing this again?”

“She goes through so much paper, no wonder I always have to restock.”

“I mean, I love it though, it’s great...”

Siyeon feels like she isn’t even in the room, or a part of the conversation. The final version is at the bottom of the pile, inked on white paper.

_“We keep it low pressure for now, and change accordingly. Perfection isn’t necessary.”_

 

 

 

  
  
Kyla sits in the radio club office regularly, doing her homework, or something like that. Siyeon sees her there the second time she goes up, and then the third, and then context clues indicate that it’s a daily activity.

Siyeon doesn’t ask. She never asks. Kyla tells her, after the room is quiet for minutes on end. Sungyeon promised to show up at 4:30, but Sungyeon is a habitual liar. Siyeon sits at the desk, covered in tangled cables, and stares at the changing digital numbers on the machines. They’re stacked up on a metal rack, controls and knobs and speakers.

“It’s quieter here than anywhere else,” Kyla says. She lets out a sigh, takes a sip from her water bottle and returns to doing math problems.

Siyeon thinks of the irony, the static coming out of the headphones beside her, this station, a center of communication on campus.

“I get what you mean.”

Kyla doesn’t seem to want to answer, to keep a conversation going.  Siyeon wishes she could try harder. Maybe her own monotone voice is working against her wishes.

“Read the newspaper if you’re bored.” Kyla points to a copy dated last Friday, lying on the table in the center of the office. Siyeon picks it up to be polite and ends up getting engrossed in a story about the math department faculty changes. Who knew this could happen? Maybe Kyla.

The door slams open sooner than later and Kyla doesn’t even blink. “I’M HERE,” Sungyeon announces, after Siyeon flips the page.

“It’s about time,” Siyeon says, and taps her foot impatiently as Sungyeon pulls off her jacket and bolts to the microphone. It’s 4:47pm.

On the wall is a large, red LED sign that displays the time in UTC and locally.

“Isn’t it interesting,” Kyla asks, “to think about how we’re speaking to people all around the world? They’re living in different timezones and I just really like that. It’s better than only talking to people on campus.”

Siyeon laughs. Sungyeon has the noise cancelling headphones on and has her face pressed up to the dials, adjusting the transmitting frequency. So Siyeon watches and speaks. “Tired of the people here?”

“Not tired of the people, tired of everyone being the same.”

Siyeon turns around. Kyla took the elastic out of her hair, and it flows along her shoulders, obscuring her notebook from view. She’s clearly writing something steadily, unlike punching numbers into a calculator, but Siyeon has no idea what it is.

Sungyeon notices this change in attitude in a huff. “PARK SIYEON! I CAME HERE TO TEACH YOU HOW TO DO THIS, PAY SOME ATTENTION!”

 

 

 

  
  
On the front page of this Friday’s newspaper is a header of Eunwoo at curtain call, holding an armful of bouquets. Jieqiong stands besides her, frozen in a hand wave and grinning to the audience. That morning Nayoung dropped off three copies in the letter tray outside the office as usual, and Sungyeon picked them up and strewed them across the table, as usual.

Today Kyla scribbles on a legal pad, in faint pencil, so Siyeon can’t make anything out from across the table. “I really envy her,” Kyla comments. The folding table has a wooden print and is missing a stub under one of the legs, so it shifts its weight as Siyeon rests her foot on one end.

“She really is that talented. I’ve been going to see Eunwoo in plays since I was in middle school. I think... she was made for the stage.”

“I agree,” Kyla says, humming. Then - “I haven’t seen the play, though. But I believe you.”

She glances away from her own book. “Oh! You should go to the show tomorrow night... It’s the last night.” Siyeon hears her voice waver a little. (But why-)

“I know.” Kyla points to the schedule, typed out in a boxed column on the right of the article. Minkyung is good at graphic design.

She seems kind of enthused but kind of skeptical. Siyeon’s thumb rests between the pages of her textbook and she says, hardly looking up, “I’ll go with you.” And as a well-placed afterthought, she mentions, “Eunwoo will get us front seats if I tell her to!”

Kyla stops drawing. “I think I would like that.”

“Great,” Siyeon says. Kyla bites her lip, and the room echoes with the sound of buzzing machinery.

The door bangs open, louder than ever. She shuts it with the same ferocity. “It’s so cold outside,” Sungyeon says, shivering and pushing autumn leaves under a desk with her foot. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to help me, of course.” Siyeon has a dazed look on her face.

Sungyeon frowns. “Kyla is a licensed operator, she can teach you anything you need to know, don’t tell me you didn’t know that?”

Kyla covers her mouth in shock. “Oh, did you not know?”

Siyeon doesn’t have the backbone to tell them that she knows, so she plays the fool and lets them shake their heads at her. What did Kyla think, anyway, seeing Siyeon sit at the table across from her? Doing homework? Why was Siyeon there? Why did Kyla not say anything?

(Why Siyeon didn’t say anything is already obvious to her.)

 

 

 

  
  
The play is predictably very good. The experience of sitting through it a second time actually alerts Siyeon to the fact that Eunwoo probably forgot some of her lines on Wednesday night, but it wasn’t obvious at the time. Being that she noticed at all, Siyeon chalks this one up not to her lack of observational skills, but rather to her intense idol worship of Jung Eunwoo.

“You were AMAZING,” Siyeon shouts when they meet up backstage. Eunwoo laughs and waves it off, but her cheeks tint anyway.

“Thank you for coming again, and dragging your friend along,” Eunwoo says. Siyeon gets a little nervous at that, being as she hasn’t really ever, formally, called Kyla a friend, or vice versa. Kyla smiles, politely maybe, and Siyeon just wishes she would be a little more transparent. Please. A little.

“I had a great time, it was lovely,” Kyla tells her. And turning to Siyeon, she says, “Thank you for inviting me to come.”

“It was nothing,” Siyeon responds after a few seconds, blinking, but the conversation has already moved on like a whirlwind, Eunwoo prattling on about the hectic stage makeup situation and how Yewon looked like she wanted to snap a brush in half by the end of it. Kyla nods attentively, and Siyeon feels a sigh escape her throat.

On the walk back to the west side of campus, Siyeon doesn’t know what to say and ends up pulling an Eunwoo, meaning she can’t remember anything of what she talked about after it’s over. All she knows is that Kyla laughed a lot and part of it was probably because Siyeon’s ridiculously embarrassing, but maybe an eighth of it was because she was actually funny. Hopefully in a likeable way.

They are walking into the residential village when Kyla brings up how pretty the flowers were, the ones that the elementary extras ran up to the leads after the show was over.

Siyeon wonders where this is going but doesn’t have the processing power to think about both that and an intelligent response at the same time. “They really were great color combinations, I wonder who makes them.” Not that that sounded smart at all, but she tried.

“I'd like to just get one,” Kyla says.

“One of those bouquets?”

“You don’t get flowers on your desk for radio.”

 _Maybe you do,_ Siyeon wants to say, _or maybe you can, because what does it matter what convention is,_ but then Siyeon realizes she truly knows and understands nothing.

 

 

 

  
  
Newspaper is a dying art, just like radio. “That’s why I support Nayoung’s determined efforts to spread them all over campus.” Kyla takes a long drink of water then, dipping a french fry into ketchup.

“And why you always tell me to read them instead of going on my phone,” Siyeon realizes.

Yaebin laughs. “Haha, she still tries with you.”

“Well, it’s not going to work if you don’t try,” Kyla says pointedly, staring intently at the snacks piled on Yaebin’s side of the table.

She crosses her arms childishly. “I’m saving the diet for New Year’s.”

“You don’t need it anyway,” Kyungwon says, nudging her in the side.

“Aww, thanks,” Yaebin says, hugging her. Siyeon sighs loudly and obnoxiously.

Kyungwon rolls her eyes. “I think that’s our cue to leave.” She stands up and pushes her chair in, while Yaebin packs her remaining snacks into her bag.

“Fine. Bye kids!”

“I’m sorry they’re like this,” Siyeon says when they’re gone, feeling the need to personally apologize.

“I can hold my own,” Kyla says, smiling. “I love Yaebin, anyways. Kyungwon not so much.”

“Kyungwon is the worst,” Siyeon agrees.

She’s finishing up a slice of pizza and left crumbs scattered across the table, mixed with what the other girls ate. Kyla carefully holds a brown napkin and brushes all the fallen food to one side of the table, where she promptly scoops it up and dumps it in the trash can behind her.

“You’re a really good person,” Siyeon says in some kind of ridiculous awe. It’s not that great of a deed or anything - but it kind of is, because of that. It’s weird. Siyeon can’t explain it.

“Not at all,” she replies modestly.

“I think-” Siyeon pauses. To say everything on her mind is not necessary and not right.

Kyla looks up from her drawing. “I think I was really lucky to meet you, Siyeon.”

“Me?”

Kyla laughs. “Yeah, you.”

“P-” Siyeon stops. “What? Why? This is so sudden.”

“I just wanted you to know.” Kyla folds up her sketchbook. “I’m gonna get ready for class now.”

“Oh. I think I was luckier to meet you,” Siyeon says hastily, trying to catch up to her, in terms of cleaning up.

“I think my problem is that I believe in fate,” Kyla says.

“Why is this a problem...”

“Because it makes me think that what has no meaning actually means something. And I expect things I shouldn’t.” Kyla sighs a little. Siyeon is done eating now, so they both get up to leave. “Let’s take things as they come.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Siyeon asks. “What does this mean?”

“Ahh, I wonder. I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

On the last day of classes, Siyeon goes to the grocery store’s flower section. It’s small and the bouquets all look kind of wilted and overpriced, but she picks something out anyway.

 

 

 

On the first day of the next semester, the radio station office is clean.

“The school janitors did a nice job, at least,” Sungyeon reflects as she laments the loss of a number of important documents. “But someone,” and here she glares daggers at Yaebin’s nameplate, “forgot to pack up at the end of the year.”

“You know the only one you can trust here is yourself,” Siyeon says, grinning.

“I know... but I’m sad that it’s like this. Let me grieve in peace. Where are Kyla’s art pieces...” Sungyeon pulls open the file cabinets, looking for the papers that used to be taped to the walls.

Siyeon takes a deep breath.

“Kyla never replied to my texts over break. I mostly wanted to know if she got the flowers,” she says, expecting to be made fun of, and Sungyeon blanches.

“Did you send them to her phone number here?”

“What?”

“Did you not know Kyla was here on study abroad?” Sungyeon asks. “She went back home...”

Oh.

Well. Maybe she should have expected this. But Siyeon can’t even pretend she knows this time.

“I really,” and she stops to breathe, “had no idea.”

Sungyeon’s mouth just hangs open and her hands shake, standing in the middle of the room. The rotating fan whirrs continuously. Siyeon sits in a metal folding chair, feeling her throat go dry.

“I mean,” Sungyeon whispers. “I’m so sorry. But how did you not know.”

How did she not know? How did Kyla not tell her? How did Kyla not think to tell her? The answer to that, Siyeon thinks, is that she chose not to.

“It’s fine,” Siyeon says. “I’m fine. It’s disappointing, but I think I get it.”

“I have her SNS though...” Sungyeon continues, trailing. “It’s not like we live in the pre-postal service age. The flowers? What did you mean by the flowers?”

“Sungyeon.”

“Yes?”

“Do you have her school’s call sign?”

Sungyeon does.

 

 

Under the file cabinet, Sungyeon finds a dusty sheet of paper with Kyla’s looped, careful handwriting on it.  (It fell to the wayside, the first day, when Siyeon brushed past the desk on her way out. When Sungyeon brushes off the dirt and asks for a piece of sticky tape, Siyeon gladly rummages through the supply drawer to find it.)

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i miss kyla.......... and rly sorry for any inaccuracies/misportrayals T_T  
> twitter: [@likewaterising](https://twitter.com/likewaterising) (writing) / [@haengseol](twitter.com/haengseol) (main)


End file.
